


The Gardens of Persephone

by undead_dinosaur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cute, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undead_dinosaur/pseuds/undead_dinosaur
Summary: Draco Malfoy couldn't imagine life without Theodore Nott in it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	The Gardens of Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> Complementary to "Narcissa", but it can be read separately. Hope y'all enjoy.

Draco Malfoy didn't quite remember life without Theodore Nott in it.

Ever since he could remember, Theodore had been a part of his life. Lucius and Aurelius had frequent business meetings - whatever those were - and for some reason, Nott always brought the boy along. At the meetings and balls of the Sacred 28, too, Theodore could always be found in the emptiest corner of the room, ignoring the whole world while playing with his own hands in his lap or reading some book he had smuggled along.

He was somewhat a sinister figure, Draco had always thought, with his pit-black eyes and his shy manners. His smile was rare and he sometimes managed to sit so absolutely still it was easy to forget that he was there; most people frequently did. But Draco never totally forgot; he had a sensor, it seemed, for Theodore. If the Nott was around, he knew it.

Not many kids liked Theodore Nott, though. He noticed that when they went to Hogwarts for the first time. The looks, the whispers. They described him as weird, sinister, dark. They said he sat too still, he behaved too well, he spoke too quietly, he smiled too little.

His smile was kind of scary, Draco would give them that. Crooked, ambiguous, never conveying much emotion. It looked like the kind of smile that his father gave when he said something stupid. But he knew Theodore would never find him stupid. And that wasn't the only smile he gave.

There was another one. Shy, secret. A smile Draco had never fully seen; it only happened at night, under the half-light of the stars and the moon.

They always met at the Astronomy Tower. Both of them could never sleep well, no matter how hard they tried. Nightmares and insomnia would constantly take over their minds as soon as they closed their eyes to sleep, and they usually just gave up on getting some rest and went for a walk.

So, if the Astronomy Tower wasn't being used, Draco would go there and stargaze for a while. It didn't take him long to realize he wasn't the only one using it - one night, he simply walked in on Theodore, and figured he wouldn't mind some company. And indeed, he did not.

So, the nights were passed in a quiet calm; one boy in each corner of the Tower, half ignoring the other's presence, half enjoying the fact that they didn't have to be alone anymore. It rapidly became a habit which Draco couldn't sleep without. From a few nights per week, he started going to the Tower every single night, even when Theodore seemed to be asleep in his own bed. In the end, he always showed up as well.

Things started to change in their third year.

They still met every night, even against every recommendation and threat presented by the professors and runaway criminals, but _something_ had changed, even though Draco couldn't quite figure out what or why. There was something in Theodore's smile, something in the way that he started to not isolate himself so much in the Tower, getting a little bit closer than he used to, something in the way he looked over to Draco, almost like he wasn't sure if he should. Something in the way that Malfoy's heart started to beat weird whenever Nott was around.

Something had changed, but he could never let anyone know.

"You know," Theodore said one night, in that quiet hoarse tone he always used. His voice was starting to get a little bit deeper, and that perception always sent a shiver down Draco's spine. "I could never appropriately recognize a constellation in my entire life."

Draco looked at him with an incredulous expression.

"You are second best in Astronomy."

He shrugged.

"Finding them with a chart in hand is easy. Finding them out of nowhere, with no indication and star maps is... Well, not as easy."

Malfoy passed a hand through his hair, getting a little closer.

"Well, lucky to you, you're best friends with the third year's very best Astronomy student..."

"I thought Blaise hated Astronomy," Theodore said. Draco got paralysed for a moment, until he noticed the crook in the other boy's lips.

"Very funny, Theodore Nott. You have _two other_ best friends, though, let me remind you."

Theodore laughed - Draco didn't remember ever hearing his laughter in all thirteen years of their life. His heart thumped a little louder than it should, and he quietly begged the starts to not let Theodore hear it.

"Alright, Professor Malfoy," Theodore mocked "show me the stars."

...

When Theodore started smoking, in the next year, Draco knew that things weren't good for him at home.

His Grandpa used to smoke. He said it calmed him down. It was terrible for one's health, and he had told Draco to never do it. But it was the only thing that calmed him down, sometimes.

"Calm you down from what?" Draco had asked. Abraxas never answered.

So, when Theodore started showing up to the Tower with a pack of cigarettes - menthols, he had specified - and a lighter, Draco knew things were likely getting rough at home. He could imagine how and why; things were getting rough at Malfoy Manor, too.

But he never asked. He knew it was bad. He didn't need to know how bad, or how Theodore had acquired those cigarettes - although, truth be told, Theodore could get pretty much anything he wanted, because Aurelius and Agatha Nott simply didn't care much; as long as he didn't bother them, he could do whatever he wanted.

Therefore, Draco never asked. He just stood by his side - they stood shoulder to shoulder now, their arms touching - and enjoyed the weird smell that reminded him of his Grandpa, and one of the only three presences in that whole damn castle that made him feel good.

"Want one?"

The voice threw him out of his thoughts. He looked over and unexpectedly met the deep darkness of Theodore's irides staring right into his own. Funny; he had never noticed, but there was some inner colour to them, a dark light that looked almost purple. And they reflected the light of the stars even though he wasn't looking at them anymore. They were so deep, like two wells reflecting the distant night sky. He could stare into them forever.

"Uh... Yeah. Thanks," he forced his voice out. It sounded small and pathetic, almost childish. He was suddenly painfully aware that Theodore's voice had already changed, and Blaise's, and even Potter's. And he still had that small childish voice; he felt so pathetic.

Theodore handed him the cigarette, and he took it with something that was almost fear - of what, he didn't know. But his throat seemed to close when he took it to his lips and lit it.

He choked.

Smoke tasted so weird. So much more bitter than the smell. He immediately choked, coughed, and was sure he had posed like a perfect idiot. His instinct was to jump out of the Tower just to avoid having to look at Theodore. But the other boy simply smiled. Not the crooked mocking smile that made him look like a psychopath, but a shy, endearing smile which he gave... Well, never. Draco had never seen it - which was really pitiful, because he was sure it was the most beautiful thing in the Universe.

"Here. Let me show you."

Smoke tasted much sweeter when blown into his mouth.

He was shortly incapable of sleeping without a cigarette. Every night, after dinner, he and Theodore would go directly into the Tower and light up a cigarette each. When he offered him one, their fingers always touched, and Draco was sure he was living for that split second where he could feel Theodore's touch without feeling guilty about it.

He wondered how he would manage to live without it during summer break.

...

Turned out, he didn't have to survive much.

He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named - or was he supposed to call him The Dark Lord, now? - was now living in the Malfoy Manor. No explanations were given; he just got home to find the noseless, bald, evil cross between a snake and a human standing in his living room like he was the king of the United Kingdom.

He had known he was back, of course. Potter had made sure to tell everyone about it, and his mum had mentioned something about "your father's old master" being back, but he had thought the guy had some evil lair somewhere else, where he could huddle up and plan the assassination of a myopic fifteen-year-old in peace.

Apparently, no. He did not have such a lair. Or better yet, he did. And it just so happened to be his home.

There was a bright side, though. As the rumours of the return of the Dark Lord spread, some people started investigating the names Potter had insisted that were in the cemetery. And thus, Aurelius Nott was having a hard time in doing whatever the Dark Lord wanted him to do in secret. The solution was to move the Nott family into the Manor, where they could be supervised, and where no one would be able to follow them.

His life was turning into a literal Hell, but at least Theodore was there to live it with him.

They spent their days in his bedroom, talking, reading, or - when they ran out of words - smoking in silence, watching the peacocks down below.

"Why do you have peacocks?"

That was an actual good question.

"Well, peacocks are expensive."

"So, just for show?"

"They have sharp teeth and could kill an intruder in, like, ten minutes. But yeah, it's mostly for show."

"Your father is pathetic."

"So is yours."

There was something inherently good in talking the truth about their families in such a light tone. Like putting down a heavy backpack which had been carried for so long, it had been forgotten. Draco had always thought that Lucius was cruel and overall a terrible person, but he had never allowed himself to see him as shallow and, yes, pathetic, until Theodore pointed it out. Maybe it was just a matter of thinking about it from the outside.

As the summer days passed, Theodore's presence became less something Draco was constantly aware of and more something that felt just right, like the sound of one's heartbeat. It was rather impossible to find one boy without the other, and the adults seemed to find it great - the Dark Lord had no patience to deal with anyone who wasn't directly involved in his plan to kill Potter, Aurelius and Agatha hated kids, Lucius hated everyone who wasn't the Dark Lord, and Narcissa was rarely expressing any emotions.

Draco felt bad for his mum, but whenever he tried to spend time with her, she rushed him along, saying he should find better things to do other than trying to take care of her. He knew she was scared of something, but just couldn't make sense of what could be so scary about them spending time together.

"Maybe she's scared that the Snake will use you to get to her, for some reason. By keeping you away and pretending like she doesn't care, she's protecting you," Theodore pointed out. He called the Dark Lord "the Snake" because he looked like a snake, and they didn't want anyone overhearing their conversation and realising they were talking shit about the most powerful evil wizard in Europe.

"But isn't it obvious that she cares for me? Like, isn't it a default setting - that every mother cares for her child?"

"Not always," Theodore's voice sounded low and bitter; Draco bit his bottom lip, cursing at himself and trying not to look at the thin, pale scar in his face, from all the times Agatha had hit him with her ring and cut his cheek.

"You know, I think we've been spending too much time indoors." he commented, trying to change the subject after a small pause "It is summer, after all."

Theodore raised an eyebrow.

"Where do you want us to go? I know you like to say you live in London, but it's not like the city is just around the corner."

"It is still considered London territory." Draco shushed him up "But I was thinking, you know, we have some woods in the back. And there's a... Clearer... In there. It's not much, but the house elves won't be coming around every five minutes asking if we need anything. And there's sunlight. We could go there after breakfast and come back around lunchtime. Then it's too hot to be out there, anyways."

Nott seemed to consider it for a moment. Like he was thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Then he shrugged it off.

"Sounds like a plan."

The sky was dark and cold and an annoying breeze passed through the leaves, getting inside his robes and reminding them that it was England and that the weather didn't make much sense.

For Draco, the day was perfect.

Theodore walked right by his side as they crossed the one kilometre that stood in between the entrance to the woods and the centre of it. The trail was too narrow, and their arms touched, their fingers kept getting tangled as they moved. Their footsteps echoed in Draco's ears as loud as his own heart and the leaves' rustle.

Fifteen minutes later, they stood at the edge of the Garden.

It was terribly abandoned, of course, and the plants were an overgrown mess. But it was still the Garden.

The tulips stood tall like a parade of bells behind the - for now - bright pink roses, and the lavender stuck up from amongst the Queen Anne's lace. Dandelion seeds poured into the wind from under the tall carpet of flowers. At the side, the bench was a little more rusted than he remembered, but still stood proud in the middle of the rainbow mess, a tree of red and white jasmines standing behind it.

Draco's analysis of the Garden was cut short by Theodore's sigh.

"It's beautiful," he said, taking a deep breath. Malfoy smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Grandpa used to bring me out here when the house became too much." he said, still watching the flowers that had coloured his childhood and watched him grow up. "It's enchanted, I think, to keep the plants from dying. He called it the Gardens of Persephone. Or just the Garden."

"Persephone, like your Grandma?"

He nodded. His Grandma had died long before Lucius had even set foot to Hogwarts, but he almost felt like he knew her, from all the stories his Grandpa would tell him about "the most amazing woman to have ever graced the Earth".

"He built it for her when they got engaged. They got married in here."

"Feels like the scenery of a fairy tale."

Draco laughed, agreeing. Theodore was walking around, trying not to step on any plants, watching the million colours that surrounded him. Malfoy couldn't help but notice how adorable he looked, trying to look at everything at the same time - almost like himself the first time he had gone there.

"Grandpa used to say that the flowers were magical. They made sure any couple who visited them would be happy ever after."

Theodore turned around. Petals and seeds had been getting on his jeans, and now there was a beetle in his shoulder. His eyes reflected all the colours like a black mirror, creating a dark rainbow which could only be described as mesmerizing. His lips curved in a sweet smile, and Draco could feel his heart melt.

"There's a butterfly in your hair," Theodore informed.

...

Talking to Theodore was quickly becoming unnecessary.

Draco had always understood his faces and moods fairly well, but as the days went by and they kept always immerse in their private little bubble, words turned into a waste of breath, as a simple look or gesture already seemed to convey all there was to say. There was no need to verbalize any thoughts when their eyes already said everything. By August 12th, the only thing they spoke to each other was "good morning" and "good night", and just because they missed each other's voices.

Any second spent alone felt empty, almost meaningless, and Draco always found himself eager to feel Theodore's presence again. He had never noticed how starved he was for any form of affection until Theodore gave him some. Sometimes, he feared he was too pathetic, needy. That it was all in his head and Nott could never feel the same way. He was broken, he thought, feeling things no one should ever feel.

But then Theodore smiled, or laughed, or handed him a cigarette and allowed his fingers to linger in his skin, and butterflies stormed into his stomach and all doubts were blown away.

Theodore's perfection puzzled him. He was too intelligent, too handsome, too kind. Draco simply didn't understand how someone so perfect could exist. But there he was, kind and sweet and smart and dark and warm. Theodore Richard Nott.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" he asked, interrupting Draco's thoughts. His voice wasn't much more than a whisper, as usual, but Draco could feel it echoing in his veins.

It was the night of August 31st. The next day, they would wake up early and take the Hogwarts Express towards another year of... He didn't even know what to expect of Hogwarts, anymore.

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready for Hogwarts," he answered with a sigh "I hate leaving Mama alone. And quite frankly, having to live with other people is not a welcoming thought, either."

It was rather late. They had snuck out again after dinner, and that had been about two and a half hours earlier. He wondered if they'd make it back inside before sunrise, of if they'd just fall asleep in the Garden and stay there. If it was up to him, they would never leave the Garden ever again.

Silent had settled down around them again, as if no words had ever been spoken. Absently, he watched as a white moth crawled around the roses - burgundy, now -, like a shadow passes across the moon. He had laid his head on Theodore's shoulder, and the mixed smell of strawberry and coffee filled his senses. He probably smelt the same; they had both eaten too much cake in dessert.

"If we were to die tomorrow," Theodore started, in a pensive tone. Draco laughed and raised his head, staring at his face.

"For Nimue's satin dress, Nott, you're in a cheery mood..."

"If we were to die tomorrow," he insisted. Malfoy nodded and lit a menthol cigarette, letting him continue "and you only had tonight, what would you do?"

"What do you mean?" he asked while blowing away the smoke, just to hear his voice again. Nott didn't seem to notice, or to look away from the stars.

"Well, you only have, like, eight hours left to live. How do you spend them?"

 _Kissing you_ , Draco thought, but didn't say. He took another drag and tried to think of something else.

"I'd say goodbye to Mama. And then... I don't know... Spend the rest of the night playing the piano, I think. It is a good way to say 'farewell' to life, I guess."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Theodore sighed, staring at the purple lilac as if it had broken his heart. Draco stared at his face wondering, just wondering, what was going on in his mind. And how the fuck could someone look so beautiful and so sad at the same time.

"What about you?" he finally gathered the courage to ask "What would you do with the last eight hours of your life?"

"Join you in the music room, I guess," he answered in a low voice, like a whisper "I could play the violin; we could compose a sad 'farewell' to the world together."

Draco wanted to say something, but there was nothing to be said anymore. Nothing that mattered. The problem with Theodore was that it didn't matter how close they were; he still could be a mysterious unreadable bastard when he wanted, and that sometimes was a problem. But Draco knew something was bothering him - and he was going to find out what it was.

"No goodbyes?" he asked, swallowing some old saliva.

"Who would I say goodbye to?" he exhaled, heavily, blowing some smoke at his shoes. "My parents would be thrilled to see me gone. Pansy and Blaise are too far away to be reached in time. No, no. The world is the only one I could say farewell to. Well, apart from..."

He made a vague gesture with his cigarette. Draco wondered if he was talking about the Garden or something else. The question lingered in his throat for a long time before he was able to ask it.

"Apart from what?"

Theodore looked at him, blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth. The cigarette was nearly out, now, and he took the time to put it out completely in his boot before answering.

"You. Obviously."

_Oh._

Their eyes met. Draco allowed himself to admire those eyes that had seen too much. The old scar which he had seen bleed out so many times in the past. He stargazed into the darkness, his hands unconsciously seeking out Theodore's, holding them tightly.

The air smelled like tobacco and mint. The thin clouds which had been resisting the whole week finally gave up, cold drops exploding lightly into their skin. The leaves ruffled with a handful of butterflies and a dozen moths crawling more frantically on top of them, bothered by the rain. Theodore's lips tasted like coffee.

...

Hogwarts was even bigger a chaos than expected.

Umbridge had managed to turn what was already a nightmare into a living Hell. Rule upon rule, she made it impossible for the students to have any freedom at all. Draco's new position as Slytherin Prefect guaranteed him a place in the Inquisitorial Brigade - a post he didn't really want, but it felt wrong to turn it down. The O.W.L's were approaching a little bit too quickly, and they were totally unprepared for it, because their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher - Umbridge herself - was the most useless pink toad in existence.

At least he knew he wasn't the only one having a hard time with it. Pansy had been named Prefect with him, and so she was stuck at the Brigade by his side - he had therefore, at least one friend to turn to when something awfully stupid was said or done. Blaise hadn't been invited and was thankful for it. Trying to get enough O.W.L's to pursue a political career was already hard enough without having to follow Potter around to try and unmask his "illegal" study group.

Theodore had been offered a good position on the Brigade - head of the whole thing, in fact - for no apparent reason other than the fact that Umbridge seemed to like him very much. She offered it to him constantly, so he had found as many kids who needed tutoring as possible - in all four Houses - in order to excuse himself from any position she could possibly try and stick him into. He had, in turn, almost zero time to study for himself, but he was too committed to avoid and piss off Umbridge to care.

Slytherin pettiness at its finest, as Pansy had joked.

As if Hogwarts wasn't bad enough, Draco knew there were problems at home, too. Worse than usual. In her letters, his mum always assured him that he had nothing to worry about, and that everything was okay. No problems at all. But he could see in her calligraphy that her hand was shaking. And her farewell was always blurry and tear-stained. Sleeping was quickly becoming even more impossible than before.

Theodore was the only good thing in all the chaos. And even that was breaking his heart.

His smiles were dark and crooked again, so different from the shy, warm ones he had gotten used to during summer. His eyes were deep, dark wells that reflected only the stars. It was beautiful as ever, but Draco missed the dark rainbow he reflected at the Garden.

His lips always tasted like coffee.

Draco still felt guilty, sometimes. Lucius's words lingered in the back of his mind, whispering to him at night, reminding him of how much he was staining the family's name, what a shame he was to the whole Sacred 28, and therefore the whole wizard society. It would whisper cruel words in a vile tone and make guilt build up in the pit of his stomach until he felt like vomiting.

Until Theodore touched him, or whispered something sweet in his ear, or kissed his cheek; then the world turned into a blur and Theodore became the only thing that really mattered. He was quickly becoming surer and surer that a life without Theodore Nott in it wasn't a life worth living.

Summer was even worse than school, which had seemed impossible.

Lucius was in prison. Draco wanted to blame Potter, but he knew he shouldn't. He couldn't. The only person he could truly blame for that was Lucius himself - him and his stupidity in following orders so blindly. He shouldn't have been surprised, of course. Following orders was the only thing Lucius was really good at, other than being a coward.

Draco wouldn't have cared much about it if “being a Death Eater" wasn't a family occupation which passed down from father to son. Lucius had failed at serving his Dark Lord well, so now it was Draco's chance to try - and certainly fail.

Everyone made it seem like it was a choice and an honour, but Draco knew better than that. Lucius had proven himself too weak and useless, so now Draco had to make up for it. He had to accept the Mark, otherwise his family - which was to say, his mum - was going to pay the price.

That had been his worst nightmare for years. He had watched Lucius's reaction when it started to hurt again, and he had seen how it slithered and contorted in his forearm, like an actual snake underneath the skin. He didn't want that in his arm. He didn't want to kill Dumbledore. He just wanted to get his mum and his best friends and get out of the goddamn country.

Instead, he stood tall and proud in his own house. He folded up his sleeve and he let them Mark him as one of their own. And he watched as the ink burned his veins and scorched his skin, and as his skin itched and squirmed as it was tainted forever. And he pretended to be proud of it. Like it didn't hurt. Like he didn't want to vomit just from looking at it.

It was only hours later that he allowed himself to cry. He allowed himself to bury his face into his pillows, trusting them to muffle the overwhelming sound of his sobbing, and the serpent squirmed and twisted and burned.

"Shh, it's okay." Theodore's voice seemed to calm the snake down. His touch made the pain fade away a little. And his familiar heat felt right when everything else felt wrong. "I got you. It's okay. I know it hurts. I'm right here, angel, I got you. You can cry. It's okay."

None of them slept that night.

...

The good thing about being the only two kids in the Manor was that no one seemed to care about what they did. The Dark Lord wanted him to kill Dumbledore, but he could care less about whether or not Draco was at the meetings, so they ran away to the Garden and spent all day long in there, smoking menthols and burning daylight in shy kisses and semi-empty promises.

"Do you think it will ever get better?" Theodore asked one night. It was cold and storming outside, so after dinner they had huddled up in Draco's bedroom with tea and hot cocoa and stargazed into each other's eyes like they used to.

"No," Draco shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. There was no use in lying.

"You think this is it, then? No future for us, just... Keeping this up, meeting behind everyone's back, until we get married to pure-blooded girls pre-approved by our parents? Or having an affair? Never having a real future, just the here and now?"

"Yeah," the word seemed to burn his lips as it slipped through them.

Silence fell like a heavy snow blanket on top of and around them. Draco kept staring into Theodore's eyes, feeling his own burn. Theodore wiped away his tears, carefully; his touch and voice ever so kind, his eyes ever so deep.

"You know, we could just... Flee. Pack up our stuff and get out through the window. It's not like anyone would notice - or care. You could wake your Mama up, she could come with us. We could pass by the Parkinson's and pick Pansy up, of course. Let's go to Blaise's house - you know, Athena has a plan to smuggle them both out of the country without anyone noticing. Or we could go to France - didn't your Grandpa leave you an old house there? We could go there. We could travel the world. Didn't you always want to see things? Let's see things. Let's fly away and live. Just us. Let's be happy for once."

Draco gave him a smile. Sad and bitter like only Theodore's smiles used to be. He felt an overwhelming need to hold him tight and kiss him until the night ended, but he didn't. He just sobbed, in silence. His tea was surely salty, now, because his tears were falling right into the cup, despite his boyfriend's best efforts to wipe them all away.

"Is that what you want to do? Run away and see the world?"

"Wouldn't it be perfect? We could be together forever, and no one could ever get in our way. We could be free. We could be _happy_."

"Do you think there's happiness for people like us?"

His voice, he knew, sounded amazed. Being happy - especially with Theodore - had never crossed his mind as a solid possibility. He thought his life was doomed to be as dull and grey as his parents' had always been; almost lifeless. The idea that someone could've thought differently sounded almost absurd.

Theodore stared at him with a puzzled look and hurt eyes. His next words were very quiet.

"What do you mean?"

"You know." Draco looked down into the dark liquid in his cup. The next word struggled to get past his lips; shame was holding it in. "Broken."

Theodore remained in silence for a while. When his fingers gently touched Draco's chin, they were warm. And he looked up.

"We are not broken, my angel," he said in a soft voice. His eyes weren't hurt anymore; only kind. His thumb gently grasped his cheek, almost nervous. "We are just... Free. I know it's hard to believe it, but I promise you, my angel, that it is going to be okay. We are going to be okay."

His lips tasted like hot cocoa, this time.

Draco dwelled in his arms, feeling every cell in his body burn under his touch, every breath being taken away amongst kisses. Theodore's skin felt too warm against his own, his breath too loud in his ears. He fell asleep still tasting his skin in his lips, and woke up with his comfortable weight in his chest.

...

That year passed like a blur.

Every living second was of agony, as the snake in his arm crawled under his skin and made his entire body burn. Every attempt to kill Dumbledore and complete his mission turned into a failure, and resulted in in him hiding away in the Room of Requirement, sobbing and watching as the Dark Lord tortured his mum for hours on end.

 _Don't fail me again_ , he always whispered before letting him go.

But he did. He failed again and again and again and he never seemed to get it right. An unforgivable curse, a cursed necklace, a poisoned bottle... Nothing. Nothing seemed to get to Dumbledore, nothing seemed to work.

When Potter hit him with a Sectumsempra, he thought he was going to die. And the only thing he could think as he fell was "fair enough". Not a noble way to die, but probably better than he deserved. And more merciful. The world darkened around him and he fell all the way through to the Malfoy Manor.

The Restroom Duel, as Blaise had been calling it, had been many months before, but sometimes he forgot that. So many things had happened since - Dumbledore had died, for one -, but sometimes his mind would simply go numb and erase all that. Whenever he looked in the mirror and noticed his scars crossing his chest, his mind would numb out, and suddenly, he was falling again. Back at Hogwarts's second floor's girls' bathroom. Falling. Always falling. Someone was screaming - Elizabeth? - and cold hands were pressed against his chest, trying to stop the blood. But how could anyone be pressing his chest? He was falling. He was always falling.

Failing.

And he kept falling until Hogwarts arrived again.

This time, he dragged his body around the corridors, feeling the world's weight in his back. His arm kept on burning, but he was so numb he barely felt it. He stayed awake at night, hearing the screams of the kids who were being tortured in the dungeons nearby, and feeling guilty about his role in all that.

A part of him wanted to go back to the time where his biggest fear was to be caught dating a guy. It still kind of still was, but now he found himself in a constant estate of alert, trying to make sure no one said the wrong thing in class. Helping the first years learn how to fake being tortured so that the older ones could just pretend to be torturing them under the Carrows' watch. Tutoring those who were falling behind so they could catch up and not be tortured at the end of the class. Diverting the Prefects who were looking too close to the reborn Dumbledore's Army.

But the screams kept echoing through the dungeons, keeping all the slytherins awake. Huddled in the common room, ready to welcome and help those who had been sent to punishment. He always made sure to hold his friends tight, forever fearing the day when it would be their screams that he heard. Clawing at his forearm at night during nightmares, he teared his skin away and woke up covered in blood, always terrified of finding out it wasn't his own.

The rumours about Potter were discussed in low voices. No one talked about it out loud, but everyone always knew about whatever news had been released on the Chosen One; they gathered in hidden parts of the castle to listen to Potterwatch and keep each other from giving up. Draco made sure to discreetly let the entire school know that he had successfully escaped the Death Eaters that Easter and was now acting on a plan to take the Dark Lord down for good. The hope in people's eyes was the only thing that kept him going.

Even thinking about Theodore was a rock at the bottom of his stomach, now. They were still together, and usually shared a bed at night, but every single day that passed was one day closer to the end of that. Theodore had received a letter in October; his parents were glad to tell him that he was going to be Marked soon as the school year was over, and they had already settled his engagement to Daphne Greengrass. As for Draco, Snape himself had informed him that Lucius and Patrick Parkinson had reached an agreement, and his and Pansy's wedding was to take place in July the 1st, at the Parkinson Manor.

He had no illusions about the reason why such a rush - they had been too obvious. People had noticed the long time spent behind closed doors, the smiles, perhaps some mark they had missed. They knew about them. Probably about Pansy and Blaise, too. And now they were rushing to break them all apart to show the world - and the Dark Lord - how they were _normal_ , good boys, and how Pansy was an honoured woman who would never stain her perfect lineage - and herself - with a _halfblooded, bastard, black_ man.

 _So much for "happily ever after"_ , he thought. _So much for being happy for once._

"Maybe snakes don't get happy endings," Pansy murmured with dry eyes.

...

His best friend's words kept echoing in the back of his head, while he ran through the school, trying not to trip on the bodies lying in the floor.

 _"Maybe snakes don't get happy endings"_.

He knew that they probably wouldn't. Maybe they'd meet their endings right there, at that school they had learned to hate so much, amongst so many people who deserved better, and so many people who deserved nothing. He wondered which one they were.

" _Maybe snakes don't get happy endings"._

Did that mean that the Dark Lord wouldn't, either? Or Snape? Or any of the Death Eaters? Just for them, he wished it was true. But he thought of his mum's warm smile, and Astoria Greengrass tutoring kids so they wouldn't fall behind, or Mila Bulstrode patching kids up at night after a torture session, or Timothy Davies telling stupid, dumb jokes to keep everybody's hopes up, even after a Dark Arts lesson, and he wished there were exceptions to the rule. Maybe he wasn't one of them, and he was okay with that. But if there was a God, he wished that She could differentiate a snake from another, and that some of them got their happy endings.

...

He saw the corpse falling. And then he was sobbing into his mum's arms.

The war was over, the hall seemed to whisper all around him. The war was over, and the world was forever changed.

"I got you," she whispered to him as she kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, and let her own tears fall into his hair. "I got you, _Mon_ _Cher_ , and everything is going to be okay now. You'll see. We'll be okay. Everything is going to be okay."

He tried to believe it even through the trials.

They consisted of a never-ending, constant anxiety, as every Death Eater the Ministry became aware of was dragged into court. A whole investigation was made into their lives. Great and old families which had once stood proud as a pillar of the wizard society collapsed, their throne being built in darkness and lies, and now taken away as they were dragged into Azkaban, one by one.

So many of his colleagues stood in the corridor to watch their parents being taken away. Some of them cried. Some held back their tears. Some just watched cold and absent-mindly, indifferent. Some grinned; a girl laughed and said they had it coming. Some were tried themselves, but Gregory Goyle was the only one to be actually thrown into jail. The only true Death Eater of the generation. Draco wondered if there would've been two, if Crabbe had survived.

He stood by Theodore's side while they took his parents away. Differently from Lucius, they had been granted a last goodbye, but both of them refused it coldly. They didn't have a son, they told the court. Not anymore. Theodore simply nodded away, in agreement, his face unreadable to everyone but Draco. He knew what was going on in his head - it had been through his own when they took Lucius.

_They don't care. They never did. Why should I?_

And just like that, they were free. His mum had lost her right to have a wand and they would not be allowed to live in Malfoy Manor for as long as it was being investigated by the Ministry, but that was it. No wedding was going to happen anymore. Not those. Daphne had made a point of leaving the UK with her girlfriend; Astoria stayed behind only for Hogwarts and Timothy Davies. All those plans, those already signed contracts, were suddenly worthless, as good as inexistent. Draco had no certain future.

When the Hogwarts letter arrived, Draco could barely believe it. After everything that had happened, he couldn't think of a single reason why they would want him back; he had already gotten used to the idea of never going back to Hogwarts - maybe he could get a muggle degree or something. But there it was, in green letters and white parchment, inviting him back and assuring that all students were welcome to retake that past year in order to receive a proper education.

"Go," his mum urged him when he showed her the letter "I'm with Andromeda, I'll be fine. You have to go, get your N.E.W.T's. Or don't you want to be a healer anymore?"

So, he went.

...

That year was, maybe ironically, the best one he had ever had.

Those kids who he had tutored stood up for him, now. Some students to whom he had taught how to fake a _Cruciatus_ waved at him in the corridors. Luna Lovegood sat by his side in the yard just to catch up, or watch as the four of them talked. Slowly, although not that slow, he wasn't the "bad guy" anymore. He wasn't the "Slytherin Prince", either, but he didn't want to be it anymore. He just wanted to get as many N.E.W.T's as possible so he could get into healing school.

"Do you have a plan?" Theodore asked one night, while they waited for dinner time "I mean, I know you want to be a healer and all, but do you know where you want to study?"

"Élysée," he answered, in a heartbeat "France."

"Time to reopen your family's old house, then?"

"I suppose."

Almost in a reflex, Draco reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"What about you? Do _you_ have a plan?"

Theodore shrugged.

"Not really, I mean... I'm going to be a magiarcheologist, of course. But I haven't really stopped to think where I will study. I was always kind of scared of thinking about it, you know? I hate making plans."

"Well..." Draco started, trying to sound casual "Élysée has a great Magiarcheology curriculum. Best in Europe, in fact."

"Oh, really?" Theodore turned to him with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow "But Élysée is in France."

"It is, yeah."

"And so, where would I live, while in France? You wouldn't happen to have an extra bedroom in your house to give me, would you? Or just some space in your bed?"

"We can talk about that."

...

Draco Lucius Malfoy-Nott couldn't imagine life without Theodore in it.

Ever since he could remember, he had been a part of his life; his very best friend, sitting by his side and comforting him with low whispers and gentle touches. He could always be found right by his side, whenever he needed him to be there, always ready to make sure everybody was okay.

He was the most beautiful thing in the world, Draco always thought, with his calming dark eyes and his sweet manners. His smile was warm and sometimes he focused so hard on something he was doing it was easy to forget that he was around. But Draco never did; he had a sensor, it seemed, for Theodore. If his husband was around, Draco knew it.

He watched as a butterfly made its way around the white roses, closely watched by Scorpius. Cassiopeia was too busy studying the moth in her hand to notice anything else - and that included the butterfly climbing into her hair from the dandelions. By his side, his mum read a book. By his other side, his husband studied a sketch of some artefact he was currently researching, biting his quill.

 _Maybe snakes don't get happy endings_ , Pansy's voice echoed in the back of his head, a faded memory from the war.

Draco took Theodore's hand and squeezed it, making him lift his head and look at him; a dark rainbow in his eyes and a clear one in his glasses' thick lenses. The healer gave him a peck on the lips before getting up to help his daughter get a butterfly out of her messy hair as Scorpius laughed at his sister, unaware that the same thing was about to happen to him.

" _You're wrong, Pan,_ " he thought, with a smile that his fourteen-year-old-self would never have thought he was capable of having; a happy one. " _Sometimes, snakes do get happy endings._ "


End file.
